


not the same

by ganymede_elegy



Series: tumblr prompts [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon - Book, F/M, because of course they are, cuddling for warmth, jon and sansa are on a campaign to take back the north
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ganymede_elegy/pseuds/ganymede_elegy
Summary: “You're cold,” he says again.“And you're not,” she snaps, throwing the letter back onto the table.The accusation sits between them, tenuous, resting on a knife's edge.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: tumblr prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955872
Comments: 28
Kudos: 179
Collections: Jonsa Autumn Drabbles 2020





	not the same

**Author's Note:**

> for the Tumblr drabble event, prompt: keeping warm

“You're cold” he says as they sit in his tent, as he reads letters that he then passes to her. It's a nightly ritual, something they've fallen into since he stole her away from the Vale. It had started as a courtesy, inviting her to his tent for supper, distant and tentative in what they are to each other. Siblings? Cousins? Nothing? He wasn't sure then and he's still not sure now (he both does and doesn't want to believe what Howland says about who his mother was).

“I'm a Stark of Winterfell,” she says through clenched teeth, he watches her physically try to stop herself from shivering.

“I don't think being a Stark makes you immune to the cold,” he points out with a small smile at the willful set to her mouth, the way her eyes narrow at him in defiance.

She doesn't point out that he's not cold, though. He isn't sure if it's out of politeness or fear or something else. Neither of them mention it most nights; that ever since he was brought back from the dead, the cold doesn't seem to bother him. They don't mention that he runs so hot he sweats when he layers himself in furs during the day (he does it to keep up appearances, he knows it and so does she, somehow).

She watches him, he thinks. She's figured him out, though they never talk about it. He wonders if his death has caused this (or is it because he's part _dragon_ like Howland says?)

Her hands shake ever so slightly as she reads the letter from House Mormont, pledging themselves to the son and daughter of Ned Stark (one of the many reasons he tries to ignore what Howland says; if Howland is right, he _isn't_ the son of Ned Stark and then where would they be?)

Icy wind whips around the tent and no matter that he's been given the second best tent they have (the best he gave to _her_ ), it still seeps through.

“You're cold,” he says again.

“And you're not,” she snaps, throwing the letter back onto the table.

The accusation sits between them, tenuous, resting on a knife's edge.

“Aye,” he says finally, _finally_ they're talking about this. “I'm not.”

She seems surprised that he gave in, that she won so easily. She shouldn't be; if she's observed him half so well as he thinks she has, she should know by now that he'll give her anything. She can have this, his admittance (she can have whatever she wants from him).

Her shaking is worse now and he's not sure if it's the cold or what they both know it means.

“We still have letters to get through,” her voice is quieter than he thinks he's ever heard it, she turns to pick up another letter from the pile (House Glover, from the seal). Her hands are shaking so violently, she can't open it.

There's a sort of peace that's spread through him since the words left his mouth ( _aye, I'm not. Not cold, not the same, not your brother_ ).

He stands and takes the letter from her and picks up the rest of the unread pile. There's confusion on her face as he takes one of her shaking hands and pulls her up gently and leads her over to the cot in the corner and he sits and pulls her to sit with her back against his chest and he bundles the furs around them.

She doesn't protest and he feels her relax against him. “Warm?” he asks, now barely more than a whisper, his mouth so close to her ear, and the shiver that goes through her isn't from the cold this time. She nods and pulls her hands and feet into the cocoon they've made.

He picks up one of the letters and opens it for them both to read. It doesn't matter if his hands are out in the open, he doesn't feel the cold. He'll keep her warm.

(He'll keep her warm until he wins Winterfell back for her. He'll keep her warm until she doesn't need him anymore).


End file.
